


Helpless

by lovetheblazer



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Needle Phobia, Wisdom Teeth, crisscolfer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 21:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5221712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetheblazer/pseuds/lovetheblazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After nearly 10 years of stalling, Darren finally gets his wisdom teeth out, leaving Chris to contend with one very doped up and irrational boyfriend. Loosely based on a whole bunch of videos of people being high as fuck on anesthesia and ridiculous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helpless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lightsandsparks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightsandsparks/gifts).



> Because Sam got her wisdom teeth out a couple of weeks ago and I promised her fic as her reward for surviving. 
> 
> Video inspiration, in case you are curious: [Video 1](http://lonely-milk-carton.tumblr.com/post/130438791466/alexandranikole-twerknugget-i-feel-so-bad), [Video 2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N7FTApifG5o), [Video 3](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j3f4E_e-2I0).

“So, what's the verdict?” Chris asks Darren the second he walks through the door in lieu of a greeting.

“Hello to you too,” Darren shoots back. “And I'll get to it. But first of all, what are you doing next Friday?”

“Uh... depends? I learned my lesson on committing to something before I know what I'm agreeing to after that time you dragged me to a screening of Paranormal Activity. Being so scared I almost peed my pants was a pretty educational experience,” Chris snarks.

“It's not a horror movie, I swear. Just need you to drive me to the dentist,” Darren moans, looking pitiful.

“Again?” Chris asks. “Are your teeth so fucked up that they couldn't just fix the problem today?”

“Well, turns out I have an abscess because I really need my wisdom teeth out and they're growing in wonky, so yeah, guess you could say that. They hooked me up with an oral surgeon's appointment to get them out ASAP,” he explains with a deep sigh.

“Jesus, you  _still_  have your wisdom teeth? How long have you been putting that one off?” Chris glares at Darren. “You're older than me and I got mine out while I was in high school, dude.”

“Um yeah, I've been putting it off for a good seven or eight years,” Darren admits. “Since college, pretty much.”

“Try ten years then, unless Hollywood has already convinced you to start lying about your age. I got mine out at eighteen and you are twenty-eight, last I checked. Are you really that big of a wimp that you've procrastinated this for ten whole years?” Chris teases.

Darren flops down on the couch next to him. “Do you even need to ask that question? I feel like you know the answer by now. Basically, I'm going to be an anxious mess until it's over with, but if you play chauffeur and nursemaid for me next weekend, I promise I'll make it up to you,” he vows.

“I doubt you'll be any easier to take care of while you're recovering, so you better have something really good in store for making it up to me,” Chris says, shuddering in mock horror.

Darren pouts, dropping his head to Chris's shoulder. “I know, it's going to suck.”

Chris opens his mouth to make a snarky remark, but stops when he sees genuine fear flicker across Darren's face. “It's not that bad. I assume they'll dope you up pretty well? They did for me,” he soothes. “I was high as a kite the day mine came out. I kept saying embarrassing stuff to my parents,” Chris recalls.

“Well, good thing I have practically no sense of shame, at least in front of you. Looks like that'll come in handy.”

“Remind me to film you afterwards when you're tripping balls. Then I can threaten to put it on YouTube and blackmail you,” Chris says gleefully.

“Why would I remind you to blackmail me?” Darren chuckles softly. “I might be dumb, but I'm not  _that_  dumb.”

“Duly noted,” Chris snickers. Personally, he has his doubts about that.

“Ouch,” Darren winces, lifting his head from where it's been resting on Chris's shoulder. He rubs at the side of his jaw, face scrunched up in discomfort.

“Still hurts?” Chris asks, frowning. “They couldn't do anything to help with that in the meantime?”

“They um, drained it a little bit...” Darren begins. Chris wrinkles his nose in disgust at the gruesome mental image his mind supplies.

Darren takes in Chris's expression, then adds, “Yeah sorry, it's gross, I know. It's even worse when it's happening in your mouth.”

“I'm sure,” Chris hums and reaches out and pets Darren's knee soothingly for a moment.

“Anyways, they also gave me antibiotics to take, but the dentist said it'd probably take a day or two for them to really kick in and help with the pain. In the meantime, he gave me a couple Vicodin to take if I needed something stronger than Advil,” Darren explains, still cupping his cheek and jaw protectively.

“Sounds like now would be a good time to make use of that,” Chris gently prods. “Do you need me to run out and pick up your prescriptions?”

“Nah, I already got them,” Darren sighs dejectedly.

“...is that a bad thing?” Chris wonders aloud.

“Well yeah, I don't really feel like wasting my entire weekend in a Vicodin-induced haze, so it's not ideal,” he grumbles.

“Neither is being up all night because your mouth hurts too much to sleep,” Chris points out, thinking back not so fondly to the previous night and Darren's palpable misery. “You're lucky your boyfriend loves you enough to drag himself out of bed early on his day off and make you an emergency dental appointment.”

“I am that. Very lucky,” Darren agrees. He tries to smile at Chris but it quickly morphs into a grimace. “Ow.”

“Alright, enough stalling. Take your pain meds,” Chris insists.

“But...” Darren starts to protest.

Chris easily cuts him off with a glare. “No buts, do it. You are going to owe me big time after next Friday and you don't want to add to your karmic debt, do you?”

“Depends... can I work off my debt in sexual favors?” Darren all but purrs.

“Not today you can't, because you are going to be asleep thirty minutes after you take your Vicodin. It's kind of a buzzkill when you fall asleep mid-hand job,” Chris retorts. “Blue balls are a totally valid thing. A very real, extremely painful thing.”

“Hey! That was only  _one_  time,” Darren pouts.

“Still... sexual favors will have to wait for another day. Sorry to disappoint.” Chris snags his water bottle off the coffee table and passes it to Darren.

Darren grabs for his messenger bag, rummaging around until he manages to retrieve a paper sack from the pharmacy. He reaches into it and pull out two amber pill bottles. He dumps one of each tablet into the palm of his hand and swallows them down with a swig of water, wincing again as the water makes his mouth twinge painfully.

“Good boy,” Chris congratulates, a slightly teasing lilt to his tone.

Darren groans, though this time seems to be less about pain and more about the implications behind what Chris has just said. “As soon as these meds wear off, we're totally going to get it on. Sexy times in the shower, maybe? You, me, a fuck load of steam and hot water?” he suggests.

“We'll see, killer. For now, it's nap time,” Chris tells him.

“Care to join me for a nap?” Darren asks, single minded in his desire.

“I'm editing.” Chris gestures to the rough draft of his latest manuscript that he recently printed out and the red pen sitting atop it.

“If I can't nap  _with_  you, how about I nap  _on_  you instead?” Darren requests, looking longingly at Chris's lap.

“Man, you are hella clingy today,” Chris remarks. It's not meant as a judgment, but Darren clearly takes it that way, judging by the exaggerated pout.

He gives Chris his best wounded puppy dog eyes, laying it on thick. “Because I don't  _feel good_ ,” he huffs defensively.

The look is Chris's kryptonite and Darren totally knows it. Chris wants to be mad at him for the blatant manipulation, but he mostly just feels guilty for giving Darren a hard time instead. “Okay fine, come here,” he sighs helplessly. He relocates his manuscript and pen to the arm of the couch, then grabs a throw pillow and drops it to his lap.

Darren stretches out on the couch and settles his head in Chris's lap. “Thanks,” he murmurs gratefully.

“Sure,” Chris replies, eyes already on his editing again. His free hand trails down to Darren's hair, carding his fingers through it absentmindedly while he works.

“Mmm, you're the best,” Darren mumbles sleepily.

“Shh, grownups are working here,” Chris whispers fondly.

Darren's only response is a soft exhalation of breath as he drifts off to sleep.

* * *

The following week flies by, and before they know it, it's Friday morning and Chris and Darren find themselves sitting in the waiting room of the oral surgeon's upscale office. Apparently he must be the oral surgeon to the stars, judging by the autographed portraits of various celebrities adorning his walls. Chris wonders if Darren will qualify for the wall of fame. It'd be the last thing on earth that Chris would ever volunteer himself for, but Chris knows that Darren's incessant need to people please means he'd probably agree to it if asked.

Darren passes the time waiting for his name to be called by fidgeting and worrying his lower lip between his teeth, interspersed every so often with a distracted perusal of a magazine or a half-hearted round of Candy Crush. Chris sends work emails and reminds Darren to take deep breaths every couple of minutes since he seems on the verge of hyperventilating or bolting for the nearest exit.

After about twenty minutes, the door that separates the waiting room from the oral surgeon's treatment room  _finally_  swings open. A young woman in lavender scrubs appears, consulting the clipboard in her hands before calling out, “Darren Criss?”

In the chair next to Chris, Darren immediately stiffens.

“Looks like you're up, kid,” Chris says gently, squeezing Darren's shoulder. “I'll be here when you get done, okay? It's going to be over before you know it.”

“Fuck that,” Darren grits out. “You're coming with me.”

“I don't think I'm allowed to,” he points out. “All the other patients have gone back alone.”

“Don't care. This is one time I'll totally abuse my B-list celebrity status if need be.”

“B-list? Honey, I think we're C-list celebs at best,” Chris corrects automatically.

“Do you honestly think  _now_  is the right time to insult me?” Darren grumbles.

“No no, I'm sorry,” Chris apologizes immediately, chastened.

Darren stands, stubbornly holding fast to Chris's hand and forcing him to his feet as well. “You've got to stay with me, at least until they put in the IV, okay?”

“Sure, if they'll let me,” Chris agrees, noticing for the first time that Darren's hand is visibly shaking.

“Hi, I'm Kelsey,” the dental assistant greets them at the door. “Which one of you is Darren? The treatment rooms are pretty small, so there isn't really room for extra people, I'm afraid,” she explains apologetically.

Darren shoots Chris a pleading look. “I was hoping I might be able to stay with him, just until they put in the IV? Darren's not a big fan of needles and I think it'll go smoother if I can be there,” Chris suggests, temporarily putting on the charm.

She seems torn, looking back and forth between Darren and Chris several times before her eyes widen in recognition.  _Bingo._  Usually Chris would be panicking in earnest now, worried that an unethical medical staffer might leak something to TMZ for a quick payday, even though doing so would breach HIPPA and likely get him or her fired. Today however, Chris senses that her recognition of their celebrity status is his ticket to accompanying Darren back to the operating room, so he tries to focus on that silver lining. Darren's comfort and security is distraction enough from his paranoia and privacy concerns for now.

She smiles at the two of them. “I... guess that would probably be okay,” she finally acquiesces.

Chris feels Darren squeeze his hand gratefully. “Thanks, I really appreciate it, Kelsey,” Darren says, his relief palpable.

“Okay, right this way,” she says, beckoning them to follow her down a short corridor.

They quickly arrive in a small room with a reclining dentist’s chair, some medical monitors, and a tray of instruments covered by a blue surgical towel.

“If I can just get you to step on the scale really quickly?” she requests. Darren reluctantly lets go of Chris's hand long enough to step on the scale and get weighed.

“Great,” Kelsey chirps cheerfully as she jots down his weight on the clipboard she's holding. “Now you can have a seat in the dental chair. I'm just going to take your vitals and start an IV. Then, you'll be all ready for the procedure,” she explains. Chris watches Darren shudder slightly at the mention of the IV.

Chris hovers awkwardly while Darren sits down in the chair, obediently extending his arm so Kelsey can wrap a blood pressure cuff around it. Darren shoots him a panicked look, so Chris steps a little closer to allow him to take Darren's free hand again.

The dental assistant glances over at them. “You can roll that stool over so you have somewhere to sit, if you want,” she offers, inclining her head towards a stool tucked underneath the sink and counter in the far corner of the room.

“Thanks,” Chris replies. He releases Darren's hand long enough to retrieve the stool and roll it over so he can sit down right next to Darren. “Much better,” he comments, then Darren reaches for him again. “You okay so far?”

“Kinda freaked out,” Darren admits. “Glad you're here, though.”

“It'll be over before you know it,” Chris promises. “Then we can go home and you can eat all the ice cream, pudding, smoothies, soup, and mashed potatoes I stockpiled over the last few days.”

“Sounds good,” Darren agrees, managing a half-hearted smile.

“Alright, all done with the vitals,” Kelsey announces a minute or so later. “And to double check, when was the last time you had anything to eat or drink?”

“About eleven last night,” Darren responds.

“Wonderful. Just wanted to make sure, because some patients take that whole 'nothing to eat or drink after midnight' as like, a light suggestion rather than the hard and fast rule it is,” she explains.

“Oh, that's dumb,” Chris remarks idly.

“Well, you didn't hear this from me, but so are some of our patients,” Kelsey replies, winking at Chris. “Sort of an occupational hazard,” she continues as she begins lining up the various supplies in preparation to start an IV.

“ _Shit_ ,” Darren swears under his breath as he watches her with wide, terrified eyes.

“Don't panic,” Chris whispers. “It'll be fine.”

“So... is the issue that you're scared of the pain or is it just needles in general?” Kelsey asks conversationally.

“Uh... both?” Darren shrugs. “I can handle pain better when there aren't needles involved, for what that's worth, but I'm still kind of a wimp overall.”

“Kind of?” Chris teases good-naturedly. He knows Darren isn't lying about being scared, but past experiences have taught him that distraction is the best medicine for Darren. Teasing and banter are such omnipresent parts of their daily routine that he hopes defaulting to that might be a comfort to Darren.

“Touché,” Darren chuckles. “A big fucking baby might be a better and more accurate way to put it.”

“Well, when it comes to IVs, the larger the diameter of needle, the more they tend to hurt going in. Since this is a pretty minor oral surgery and we really only need IV access to give you a sedative and pain relief, we use a teeny tiny needle. You'll barely feel it, I swear,” Kelsey promises.

“That's good to know,” Darren mumbles. He tightens his grip on Chris's hand, which seems to point against him finding any comfort in Kelsey's reassurances. Chris sighs.

“Okay, time to get it over with,” she announces, picking up a long strip of rubber meant to be used as a tourniquet. “Can you hold your arm out for me and make a fist?” she requests.

Darren reluctantly does as asked. Chris watches his chest rise and fall rapidly as he starts to panic in earnest. “Hey, look at me.”

Darren lets his head flop back against the chair headrest and turns to face Chris. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Don't freak out, okay?”

“Um, easier said than done. I  _wish_  it was that easy,” Darren grumbles.

“You just need to get your mind off of it by focusing on something else instead,” Chris tells him.

“Any suggestions?” Darren wonders. He grimaces at the sensation of Kelsey swiping a cold alcohol wipe over the crook of his elbow, knowing that the needle stick won't be far behind now.

“What should we do for Halloween costumes next year?” Chris asks, taking a shot in the dark with the first topic that springs to mind.

“Okay seriously?” Darren arches one of his impressive eyebrows. “You realize Halloween was like, two weeks ago, right?”

“...and your point?” Chris shoots right back.

“Geez, I mean I always knew you were pretty intense about Halloween and your elaborate couples's costumes, but this is a new low,” Darren remarks teasingly. “You're practically one of those crazy ladies who shops for Christmas gifts in July and starts playing Christmas music in August at this point. Worse, even.”

“Why is it only ladies that do that in your hypothetical scenario?” Chris huffs, mostly kidding.

“Alright weirdo, allow me to rephrase: crazy ladies or men. Christmas 'enthusiast' can be an equal opportunity title for either gender. That's not really the point, though. The point is that I seriously doubt even your most intricate costume idea will take eleven and a half months to properly execute,” Darren chuckles.

Chris is prepared with a protest about the necessity of an adequate period of time for costume brainstorming when Kelsey speaks up, interrupting his train of thought.

“Big stick, sweetie,” she warns Darren. Thankfully, he doesn't even really have time to tense up before she's smoothly inserting the needle into his arm.

Darren squeezes his eyes shut for a moment while Kelsey advances the needle to the proper placement. He doesn't make a sound, but his hand crushes into Chris's own, still making his discomfort known. Chris strokes his hair while Kelsey tapes down the needle and connects it to a length of tubing.

“There we go,” she says after a few seconds, nodding at her own handiwork. “All done.” Once the IV is secured to Darren's arm with tape, she opens a clamp near the top of the IV tubing to allow saline from the IV bag to flow into Darren's arm.

Darren exhales a shaky breath and finally opens his eyes again.

“Did you survive?” Chris asks him.

“Yeah, guess so,” he manages, blinking up at Chris through watery eyes.

“You're getting better at the whole needle thing,” Chris congratulates, recalling several far less successful attempts at blood draws and injections over the course of their relationship. “Maybe it's from practice?”

“If that's the case, I'd prefer far less practice,” Darren groans. “If I never have to get another IV, it'll be too soon.”

“When you're high as a kite on the good drugs afterwards, you might be singing a different tune,” Chris points out.

“Doubtful.”

“Okay, so now that that's over, I should probably take your... friend back out to the lobby, Darren,” Kelsey reports, glancing meaningfully over at Chris. It's pretty clear to Chris that she knows that their relationship is a lot more complicated than a non-romantic friendship, but he appreciates the discretion nonetheless.

Chris quickly gets the message regarding how Darren feels about this new development when he automatically clings to Chris, his grip fierce. Chris sighs, but climbs to his feet despite Darren's nonverbal protest.

“Do you have to go?” Darren pouts.

“Seems that way, but not to fear, because the bad part's over, honey. All that's left is the oral surgeon walking in and giving you some happy juice in your IV so you can take a little nap, okay? Then you'll wake up and the procedure will be done and I'll be here again. Right?” he checks, conferring with Kelsey.

“Absolutely. The second the procedure is done, we'll bring Chris back to you, I promise,” she confirms.

“Okay,” Darren breathes, swallowing hard as he gazes up at Chris.

Chris feels a little exposed thanks to their audience of one, but that doesn't stop him from bending down to kiss Darren's forehead before he leaves. “Love you,” he whispers softly.

“You too,” Darren replies immediately.

“See you after,” Chris reminds him, squeezing Darren's hand one last time before he reluctantly releases it and follows Kelsey from the room.

* * *

An hour later, Chris is trailing a different dental assistant back into Darren's room. This time, the woman in question is middle aged, wearing turquoise scrubs and a brusque, far less inviting manner. However, what's really bothering Chris is not her personality, but the cagey answer she gave when he asked her how the procedure went.

As soon as he walks into the room, he understands why the vague reply was warranted. He’d expected her to give some sort of clichéd answer like, “he's resting comfortably,” but looking at Darren, Chris is pretty sure that's not the case. The oral surgeon is still in the room, making notes on a small laptop Chris assumes holds the practice's electronic medical records. Kelsey is sitting next to Darren holding his hand, murmuring a string of encouragements that Chris can't quite make out. He frowns, feeling an irrational flare of jealousy even though he's almost positive that the physical contact isn't flirtatious in nature. As he gets closer, he notices that Darren's cheeks are tear-stained and that he's sniffling rather pathetically.

Kelsey looks up and sees Chris for the first time, the relief evident all over her face. She signals to him, beckoning Chris over to where she's sitting.

“Hey Darren, look who's here now,” she announces, as she funnels Darren's hand to Chris, much like a baton she desperately wants to pass off to someone else.

Darren turns his head a little but doesn't open his eyes, even as Chris takes his hand and squeezes it. “Here, why don't you sit,” Kelsey continues, standing to offer her chair to Chris as she walks over to the other side of the room.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greets Darren softly, carding his fingers through his hair. “What's wrong? Does your mouth hurt a lot?”

“No,” Darren sniffles, voice muffled and slurred thanks to the gauze packing in his mouth.

“What is it, then? Why are you upset?” Chris presses.

“I want Chris,” he sobs.

Chris frowns, looking at Darren in confusion. “I  _am_  Chris, baby. I'm right here.”

“No, you're not,” Darren whimpers. “He said he wouldn't leave. Can you go get him? I miss him.”

Chris stares at Darren for a moment, perplexed and unsure how to proceed. “Darren,” Chris repeats, his voice sharper and more direct this time. “Open your eyes. C'mon, look at me.”

Darren furrows his brow, like opening his eyes is a particularly difficult task. Chris wonders just how high he must be that he seemingly can't remember how to do it. Finally, he manages, blinking at Chris through teary eyes.

“There we go,” Chris encourages. “Now do you know who I am?” he asks.

Darren shakes his head, completely lacking in all coordination, even for such a simple gesture.

“Yes, you do. I'm Chris, remember? And I'm here now, so you don't have to be sad.”

“Chris isn't blurry. You're blurry,” Darren insists, eyelids already falling to half mast again.

At the mention of blurry things, Chris suddenly remembers that Darren wasn't allowed to wear his contacts for the procedure and his glasses are missing. Perhaps they would help, since Darren is half blind without them.

He looks up, scanning the room for them. Kelsey must notice his hapless search, because she asks him, “What are you looking for?”

“Darren's glasses?”

“Oh, hang on, I'll get them,” she replies. She walks over to the dentist's chair and retrieves a small plastic bag in a basket underneath it and passes it over to Chris. He quickly finds Darren's case for his glasses and removes them from it.

“Darren, look at me for a second,” he all but demands, because Darren's slumped over facing away from Chris again. When that only kind of works, he has to literally take Darren's face in his hands (very, very gently so he doesn't disturb the ice packs strapped to his cheeks) and slide his glasses back on for him.

“Okay, let's try this again,” Chris says, running his fingers through Darren's hair.  

Darren mumbles something indistinct that could be Chris's name or really any other one syllable word before he finally gazes up at him. Darren blinks slowly for a few seconds before saying, “Chris?” at last with the dawning recognition they've been seeking for the past ten minutes.

“Yeah, I'm here,” Chris replies, relieved.

“Where'd you go?” Darren pouts as best he can with his already swollen face.

“Nowhere. I've been here the whole time, just like I promised you I would be.”

Darren shakes his head in disagreement, still sniffling thanks to the runny nose from his earlier crying jag. “I missed you.”

Chris opens his mouth to argue with Darren about where he's been throughout the procedure, but closes it again when it occurs to him that arguing with someone under the influence of anesthesia is probably an exercise in futility. “I missed you too,” he winds up saying instead. It must have been the right call because the words seem to instantly calm Darren.

“Sleepy?” Chris inquires, watching him blink heavily and struggle to keep his eyes open. It appears to be a battle he's losing.

Darren vehemently shakes his head no. “Not sleeping,” he insists grumpily.

“Why's that?” Chris asks, brushing a curl off his forehead.

“My mouth is gross,” he whines.

The comment shocks a laugh out of Chris. “I'm... sorry it's gross. That's why you can't sleep?”

Darren nods and only pouts harder. He sniffles a little too violently and then that morphs into a sneeze.“Owwww...” he moans afterwards, clutching his cheek.

“Oh man, you're a mess,” Chris sighs. “Hang on, let's get you some Kleenex.” He looks up again but before he can even ask, Kelsey passes him a box of tissues.

“Bless you,” Chris says as he gratefully accepts them from her.

He takes out a few and starts to pass them to Darren. Darren just stares at him like he has no idea how arms work or what Chris is even holding. “Hey Darren, want to blow your nose?” Chris prompts, trying again.

Darren shakes his head. “Too much work.”

Chris rolls his eyes, making sure to add a mental note of this moment to the rather large list of debts he's sure Darren will owe him by the end of the weekend. Then, he reaches over and literally wipes Darren's nose for him like he's a toddler. He stops short of telling Darren to blow into the Kleenex, deciding there's only so much he can do for Darren and still want to have sex with him in future. “Better?” Chris asks once he's done.

“No, my mouth is still gross,” Darren complains.

“That's not really something I can fix, honey. It's going to be gross for a while. That's what happens after you get your wisdom teeth out.”

“I don't like it,” Darren murmurs, lower lip wobbling. He clumsily lifts his hand and starts to reach for his mouth. Chris grabs his hand just in time to pull it away.

“Leave it alone, Dare,” Chris directs.

“There's stuff in there,” Darren slurs, looking confused.

“It's just gauze. It's supposed to be there.”

“Gauze? Why?” Darren frowns.

“Because your mouth is bleeding and that helps it not bleed as much,” Chris sighs, already tiring of answering what seems like endless questions. Then, he thinks back to some of the things he asked his parents after he got his own wisdom teeth out and realizes that it could be much, much worse. Certainly more embarrassing.

“I don't like blood,” Darren whimpers.

“I know, baby. That's why you should leave your mouth alone,” Chris explains.

Darren wrinkles his nose. “It tastes gross. I don't wanna eat gauze anymore.”

Chris shakes his head. “You aren't eating it, it's just there to...” he trails off, realizing the explanation probably isn't important given how far gone Darren is at the moment. “Nevermind. Let me ask them if you can have some ice chips or juice or something. Maybe that would help?”

He waves Kelsey over and after a brief conference it's decided that Darren can try a little bit of a popsicle. She busies herself with retrieving one and wrapping it in a paper towel before finally passing it over to Chris.

“Hey Darren, want to try the popsicle now?”

Darren looks confused but obediently takes it from Chris. “It's cold,” he says.

“Sure is, Captain Obvious. That's kind of the point.”

“You're a captain?” Darren slurs. He looks at the popsicle in his hand like he doesn't understand what it is or how it works which seems to be a running theme of the morning.

“You eat it, Darren. It goes in your mouth,” Chris snaps impatiently. He realizes a little too late that what he's just said sounds rather suggestive and blushes. Across the room, he watches Kelsey lift her clipboard to hide her face from view, though he can still see her shoulders shaking as she snickers.

Darren slowly lifts the popsicle to his mouth and sucks on it, eyes blissed out.

“Better?” Chris wonders.

“So good, I love it. You're the bes' love you so much,” Darren babbles.

“You love me or the popsicle?” Chris teases.

“Yes,” Darren hums agreeably.

“Guess I'll have to take those odds. You either love me or lime popsicles. Good to know,” Chris chuckles.

Darren's too invested in the new love of his life, aka his popsicle, for much of a conversation. They sit in mostly silence for a few minutes while Darren slowly eats half the popsicle before his energy and attention begins to flag. The first time he starts to nod off, Chris calls his name and he jerks back to his semi-consciousness. The second time the hand holding the popsicle starts to droop towards his lap, Chris takes it from him before it winds up on the floor or melted all over Darren's t-shirt and jeans.

A minute or two later, Darren startles awake and his eyes fly open. He looks at his empty hand and starts to sniffle again, looking around wildly though he doesn't really seem to be focusing on anything.

“What's wrong?” Chris asks him.

“My boyfriend isn't here,” he whimpers.

_Not again,_  Chris thinks. He'd be half tempted to make a joke about whether Darren has another boyfriend on the side except that he suspects it would only confuse him further. “Yes, I am. I'm right here.”

“Why does Chris always leave? I don't want him to leave,” Darren whines, his eyes starting to tear up again.

“Darren,” Chris calls sharply, leaning in until he's in Darren's direct line of sight. “Look, I'm right here so you don't have to be sad, okay?”

“I'm still sad,” Darren sniffles pathetically.

“Why?”

“Because I don't like it when you go away from me,” he pouts.

Chris sighs and takes Darren's hand, threading their fingers together. “Hey idiot, I'm holding your hand, see?” He holds up their intertwined hands and shows them to Darren. “That means I can't leave, alright?”

“Is that so you won't get lost anymore?” Darren asks, eyes wide and as guileless as a child's.

“Sure, something like that. Now, no more crying. Why don't you finish your popsicle so we can go home?”

“I like popsicles,” Darren tells him eagerly, his earlier tears already forgotten.

“You don't say...”

* * *

Two hours later, Darren's been dosed with painkillers and tucked into Chris's bed upstairs to sleep off the remaining anesthesia in peace. Chris comes back up the stairs with a fresh ice pack and crawls into bed next to Darren. He's debating between scrolling Instagram versus maybe succumbing to the temptation to take a quick nap himself when Darren starts to stir.

“Hey there, buddy,” Chris murmurs as Darren slowly opens his eyes.

He gazes at the bedding for a moment before asking, “When did we get home?”

“Like an hour ago, roughly? Don't you remember calling Brian a hairy baby like, five times when I half carried you into the house earlier?” Chris prompts, chuckling fondly at the memory.

“Wait, really? Nice,” Darren laughs. Pretty quickly the laughter is cut off by a grimace and he groans. “Ouch, no thank you,” he slurs as he rubs at his jaw.

“That's a lot politer than you usually are when you're in pain,” Chris comments archly. “I seem to remember you calling me a 'Motherfucking cocksucker' the last time I accidentally kneed you in the balls.”

“Chriiiis,” Darren whines. “Stop, it hurts.”

“I'm sorry,” Chris replies, chastened. He reaches over and strokes Darren’s hair in apology. “What do you want me to do?”

“Fix it,” Darren moans.

“Sorry hon, that's one thing I can't do. It just takes time. Why don't you try the icepack again and see if that helps?” he suggests.

Darren shakes his head miserably, declining the icepack, at least for the time being. “Why does it hurt?” he asks.

“Because they just took all four of your wisdom teeth out? It's kind of hard to do that without at least a little pain,” Chris explains patiently.

“I don't remember them taking them out,” Darren mumbles, looking confused.

“That's... kind of the point of anesthesia, Dare. It's definitely for the best,” he promises.

“Where are they? Can I see them?” Darren asks, looking around the room as if he thinks Chris is going to have his wisdom teeth sitting in a jar somewhere in the bedroom on display.

“No, baby, they don't let you keep them. That would be pretty gross if they did.”

“The dentist keeps them at his house?” Darren wonders aloud.

“God, I hope not,” Chris says, barely suppressing a shudder. It seems like an excellent premise for a horror movie if ever there was one. “Pretty sure they just throw them away.”

“But... but I didn't even get to say goodbye,” Darren gasps, looking vaguely horrified. “They just murdered them?”

“Uh...” Chris has to hide his face with his arm for a second until he can get his laughter back under control. Once he does, he slips his phone out of his pocket and discreetly opens the camera app so he can film a video, switching to the front facing camera. He’s pretty sure video evidence is the only way anyone will ever believe him when he tries to tell them some of the bizarre things Darren's saying.

“Sorry, what was that about murdered teeth, Darren?” Chris asks, holding the phone aloft and aiming it at the two of them.

“I need to tell them I'm sorry that I let the dentist kill them. They have to understand that I did it against my own will. I know they were just trying to do a good job. It wasn't their fault that they got in the way. They've been with me since I was a baby, nearly twenty years now,” Darren babbles, looking regretful.

“You're twenty-eight,” Chris points out.

“That's what I said,” he huffs. “Do you think they were sad I killed them?” he asks Chris, lower lip wobbling.

“Nah, I'm sure they never saw it coming. And you didn't kill them, that mean old dentist did,” Chris soothes.

“Okay, but if you see them, will you tell them that I love them and I'm sorry?” Darren requests, seeming more upbeat.

“Sure hon, I'll definitely do that... y'know, if I see them walking out on the street or whatever,” Chris manages, camera shaking slightly as he tries to keep his laughter quiet.

Darren pauses, eyes alighting on the phone Chris is holding overhead, camera trained on both of them. “Why is that thing looking at me?” he slurs.

“I was going to take a picture of us,” Chris lies.

“Why do I look so sad? I'm not sad,” Darren asks, frowning up at his reflected image on the phone screen.

“I don't know, sweetheart. You're not sad?”

“No, I'm happy because you're here,” Darren replies instantly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“Aww, that's sweet,” Chris hums. He reaches over and gently squeezes Darren's hand. “Do you want to make a happy face for the camera, then?”

“Yeah,” Darren breathes. He furrows his brow in deep concentration as he stares at the image, managing to move his mouth upwards only a few millimeters in a very weak smile. “Ohh, don't like that,” he moans.

“Does that hurt?” Chris asks him.

“Yes. Why does it hurt to be happy, Chris?”

“Because your face is all swollen. Let's forget about the picture and take a nap, okay?” Chris suggests, feeling guilty that he’s filming Darren while he’s miserable and in pin. He hits the button to stop recording and lays his phone down on the bed.

“Will you kiss it better?”

“I can try,” Chris agrees easily and kisses his forehead. He shifts them both until Darren's lying on his chest, and then positions the icepack over Darren's jaw. “Nap time,” he announces.

“Not sleepy,” Darren weakly protests.

Chris runs his fingers through Darren's hair and over his temple a few times. “Sure about that?” he asks, his voice low and fond.

“No... shut up,” Darren grumbles, even as he snuggles deeper into Chris and lets his eyes fall shut.

“Shh, sleep.”

So Darren does.

**Author's Note:**

> Fic comments are the highlight of any author's day and I'm certainly no exception to this. If you wanted to take a moment to tell me what you thought about this story, that would wonderful! Thanks for reading :)
> 
> [Share Fic on Tumblr](http://lovetheblazer.tumblr.com/post/133316236655/helplessl)


End file.
